And Walk in Dreams and Darkness
by Roofran411
Summary: Marke the King, Mordred his cousin and Tristan his nephew each move on towards their destinies


And walk in dreams and darkness

This is the fourth part of Marke's story. As my other Kernow stories do, it has, as its foundation, the film **Tristan + Isolde.**

Each of these (_The Making of a King_ (1), _The Long and Lonely Nights_ (2), _To See the Shadows Through the Mists (3_)…. _And Walk in Dreams and Darkness _(4) and their companion piece _Isolda_ (5) are each stand-alone but may be better if read in above order.

Again, as in my other Kernow stories, this is written in fairly modern English but with a hint ( hopefully) here and there to give a feel of Marke's time.

I write these stories purely for my own entertainment.

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.~~*~~

My thanks as ever to **Rufus Sewell **for his creation of Marke.

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.~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~

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My Song for this story is RED's Hymn For The Missing. By Robert Graves

.

Tried to walk together

But the night was growing dark

Thought you were beside me

But I reached and you were gone

Sometimes I hear you calling

From some lost and distant shore

I hear you crying softly

For the way it was before

.

Where are you now?

Are you lost?

Will I find you again?

Are you alone?

Are you afraid?

Are you searching for me?

Why did you go?

I had to stay

Now I am reaching for you

Will you wait, will you wait?

Will I see you again?

.

You took it with you when you left

These scars are just a trace

Now it wanders lost and wounded

This heart that I misplaced.

AND WALK IN DREAMS AND DARKNESS

I leant on the rail and watched the two young squires practicing their moves in the training yard below, their grunts and gasps and the dull thumps from their wooden swords echoing around us. I laughed and turned to Mordred beside me.

"No holds barred there."

"It is as well that they do not use steel. One if not both would be hurt. There is real venom behind each stroke."

"No, no! They fight hard, it is true but Melor is to be knighted soon. And Tristan, he fights as hard as he able at all times."

"That is so."

"Watch, see the ease and grace of his moves! He is two years or so younger, and yet…

He will be a fine swordsman, a knight to be honoured … perhaps to be the King's Champion. My Champion is growing nearer retiring. When he decides to give up his position…"

"You would bypass by Melor for his brother? _His younger brother_?" The tone of his voice made me turn to him again.

"If Tristan is the better, then should I not?"

He hissed softly through his teeth. "Take care, cousin. Beware of favouritism."

Surprised I said, "I have no favourites."

He raised an eyebrow.

"He is younger, yes; but he is venturesome, with such courage, he has such skill with weapons. At _his _age, and with this, he has gaiety, so much charm. He has the gift of music; he sings and plays, he dances."

"And you think that Melor has not?"

"No, of course not, Mordred! Melor too, has all these. They both shine so ... at almost everything. Well, perhaps I am a little closer to Tristan, but I have never treated them differently."

"You may not think so. But does Melor? Brothers can be jealous. Who knows better than I?"

I eyed him, weighing up his words.

Then a shout from the yard as Tristan tripped and fell, his brother's blade at his throat in a second, Melor yelling in triumph.

I laughed again at them and dismissed Mordred's comments from my mind.

"Come," I said. "Let us ride out together."

My spirits were always lighter when I was with Mordred.

He, like Tristan, had a gaiety and a vivacity that lifted my heart, though I knew of old that the black dog often sat on his shoulder.

It would not have been expected that Mordred, son of the High King, possessed of a bright beauty, with charm and intelligence, a fine and honourable knight, would sink into these dark moods, but I knew that these came on my cousin and had done so since he was a young child.

As a child he could not escape them but now as a man, he took horse and fled Arthur's court as if the hounds of hell came after him.

And, he came to where he was accepted for who he was, not for what his father was.

He came to Kernow.

And I, damaged too, though differently, would receive him with warmth and pleasure. We would practice our swordcraft, tilting, measuring our skills against each other; I would ride over my Kingdom with him till we were exhausted; we would discuss Kernow's new defences, growing stronger daily.

We would talk politics, drink until we lightened into laughter, at ease with each other as only men who had been boys together, can be.

Until he had had enough cider in him for me to ask, as I always did,

"What is it, Mordred?"

He would sit silently, as he always did, until he was ready to shed the pain that had driven him to Castle D'Or; the insults delivered behind his father's back, the slurs from companions of the court, the knife in the back by men he liked and trusted, the jealousy that trod behind him at Arthur's court.

And always there, rarely talked about, like black shadows over him, the two women who, no matter how often he left , pulled him back with invisible threads .

One, forbidden fruit, the other rotten fruit.

One, his father's wife.

Guinevere, the Queen.

Guinevere, who had spun her web around him when he was a boy; as she might have done to me, had it not been for the watchful eyes of my mother and Merlin.

The other, his mother.

Morgause, Queen of Orkney.

Imprisoned, in luxury maybe but imprisoned none the less, by his father's command.

Mordred's trouble was that he did not know whether he loved his mother or hated her.

It was of a certainty that he feared her.

.

We rode out over Kernow, examining my defences against the Irish raiders, to stand on the cliffs overlooking the Sabrina estuary, its waters glittering in the early summer sun.

"Yes, the raids are less. But when they come, they come to unexpected places and they are severe. They burn the crops and the orchards; they cripple the horses, even the farm horses….They wait until new forts are further grown and they come again."

"Hmm. Do not your beacons help?"

"Oh, yes but they have come to choose the weather. Not to be seen, they come out of the mists or they sail up the middle of the channels where they cannot be seen from our shores, then turn back and attack from a different direction."

"And Castle D'Or?"

I smiled.

"No! They will never breach Castle D'Or. Its defences are now too great and growing stronger each day ."

"Do not be complacent, cousin.

"_Merlin_ planned Castle D'Or! It will only fall through treachery."

He gathered his horse's reins.

"Perhaps you should wed Diarmud's daughter. Sue for terms?"

"Christos, Mordred! Are we back on that old tack? Did your father send you?"

"No! My father has never mentioned your marriage … or mine for that matter."

"Anyway, the Irish girl. Is she not still a child? I am too old to wed a babe."

"Children grow."

I made a contemptuous sound.

"Sweet Goddess, Marke! What age are you now? _**I**_ am almost six and twenty …so you must be four …five and twenty? Are you going to be celibate for the rest of your life?"

"You do know not that I am."

"I know you, cousin. You are celibate until the need and loneliness drives you to seek some-one, anybody. "

I could feel the anger rising in me.

"You should marry, Marke! You are the sort of a man who needs a wife."

"Enough!"

And Mordred knew when to stop.

.~*~

"And the King, how is he?"

We had retired to my privy Chamber after supper.

Tomas, my body servant, had stoked the brazier with its charcoal; it gave out a comfortable glow and with the night candle, just enough light.

He brought a jug of wine and I dismissed him.

I poured two goblets, handed Mordred one, and taking the other, sat beside the brazier .

Mordred turned to look at Tramor standing back in the shadows by the door. He raised his brows, jerking his head towards him.

"I would trust Tramor with my life." I murmured.

"Even so?"  
I nodded.

He joined me at last, taking his time to answer .

"He is weary. There are younger knights coming to court. Older ones who are beginning to think …I do not know, Marke." He shrugged. "My father's ideals of Grace, Glory and Honour , of Right for All, seems to be fading or at least tarnishing at the edges."

He put his cup to his lips, and then put it down without drinking.

"When he is at court, he pulls everything together, everything shines; but when he has to leave ….. When the Angles raid or the Danes or even….. when he is not there, everything seems to fall apart…"

A long pause.

"And then there is Mother."

He stopped again.

"She sends for us; for me , my brothers. She works on us to persuade my father to allow her to come to court."

Startled, I said "You would not?"

"I am sorry for her but no, I will not, nor Gawain; but the twins and Gareth, she easily manipulates them…."

He picked up his goblet again and drained it. "I am going to bed. Goodnight."

I sat silently in the guttering candle light. Until I was sure he was gone.

"Do you hear that?"

"Yes, Lord."

"What think you?"

In the last few years Tramor had risen through the ranks of my body guard and he had become close to me, a sounding board for my thoughts.

Never once had he crossed the line between King and subject. I trusted him and I knew if I asked him aught, I would get an honest answer.

I gestured to the chair that Mordred had sat in.

Tramor hesitated and then joined me.

It was not the first time he had sat with me but rare. He knew that I wished to speak him so that we would not be overheard, but he always wished to be certain.

"It would be best if the High King did not leave court."

"We both know that is not possible."

He lowered his voice further.

"The Queen of Orkney makes trouble if she can."

"Hmm."

"The court needs a firm hand." He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees, as I did. "Lord, there is talk."

"There is always talk."

"Yes! But "

I nodded for him to continue.

"Much talk about my Lady the Queen, and the Lord Lancelot."

"There has been talk for some time."

"Yes Lord, outside Camelot but it begins to be whispered at court."

"Sweet Jesu!"

I leaned back in my chair, resting my mouth against my fist, thinking.

"Lord, the Prince Mordred, think you he knows?"

Our eyes met.

"You know about the Prince?"

"Lord, how not?"

"No, no Tramor, I think not. It would be a brave man who would speak so of the Queen to Mordred."

"He does not see?"

"He _will_ not see; he is blind to failings in the ones he loves."

"My Lord? The King?"

"Ah! The King." I thought. "Tramor, I think the King has known from the start. Unlike Mordred, the King is far from blind, but he is understanding of the needs of the two people he loves most in the world. "

He thought about my words

"Maybe not wise."

I sighed, a deep long breath.

"Maybe not wise in some ways, but a good and loving man."

I stood.

"It is late; to your bed now."

"Goodnight, my Lord."

"Good night."

.

.~~*~~

The preparations for Melor's knighthood together with three other boys began.

My pledged lords began to gather. We met together to discuss the novitiates. After some thought, I had made a decision and spoke of it to several of my older counsellors, sitting around the table.

Tramor stood as ever, at the rear of the room.

"My lords, there is a man whom I intend to knight with the others. One who is well deserving of knight hood. He has more than earned his sword and spurs.

This is within my gift, without your sanction, but, for him and for him alone, I wish to have your spoken assent.

He is Tramor."

Silence, then the response came from my lords "Aye. Aye ."

There was no hesitation in their support.

The astonishment on his face was amusing. He looked around, hesitated then came fast up the length of the table to kneel before me.

"My Lord … my Lord…I am of common stock… I am not worthy ..." His voice broke; he bent his head to hide the emotion there.

"Tramor, there is no man more deserving."

He put his hands together and held them up to me in the traditional manner of swearing allegiance; I clasped them in mine and raised him to his feet.

"You will remain in the King's Guards?"

His surprise made him stammer, " But, but ... where else would I go, Lord? My place is at your side."

.

.~~*~~*~~

The High King invited me to Camelot to present the newly knighted Melor to him and when spring weather began to slide into Summer, I decided take him and Gwennith his mother, to court.

Gwenny was bubbling with excitement.

"You are like a small child," I said to her.

"You forget how many years it is since I have been to Camelot. And I will see my son swear his allegiance to the High King."

I smiled.

"Two years and you will see your other son do the same."

"Mmmm." She frowned a little. "That young man had better improve his ways."

I knew what she was referring to.

When I decided to take Melor to Camelot, his mother with him, Tristan thought he should come too.

Gwennith thought not.

I spoke to her in private about this.

"I will gladly take him with us, Gwenny."

"No, Marke! It is Melor's time." She bit her lip. "You know how it is, Marke. Whether he intends it or not, he steals Melor's glory. No, he will have his turn. This is for Melor."

Tristan thought otherwise.

He threw a fit of tantrums demanding to come, which surprised both his mother and me. He treated his mother to sulks and sullens for days, distressing and hurting her until I spoke sharply to him.

.

. ~~*~~

The glitter of the presentation of the new young knights to the High King was as impressive as ever and the swearing of the oath of allegiance moved my sister to tears.

It was later at the evening feast that I found how much Camelot was changing.

Arthur looked tired and worn, his bright gold hair dulling with grey , his dark gold beard glinting with silver.

The Queen sat beside him, a little bored, I thought. A little younger than Arthur , her beauty was as yet undimmed.

Lancelot sitting at the table below the dais, looked sad and weary.

It was growing noisy.

Arthur stood and took Guinevere's hand to lead her out of the great hall. The court rose and some of the older lords fell in behind them to follow them out of the hall. Lancelot resumed his seat, looking down into his goblet. The younger lords sat again to refill their cups.

Arthur's hospitality as ever had been bountiful, and ale and wine were overflowing.

Overflowing was right; unwanted food was tossed carelessly to the floor, and as much drink was spilt as was drunk . Nothing was cleared.

Gwennith wrinkled her nose in distaste as she looked around her.

"By Heaven, if these servants were mine, I would make them jump." She tightened her lips. "A poor mistress make a poor servant."

The night became raucous and coarse as drink flowed. Heads together, whispers first and glances up at the top of the table led to sniggers.

The wall torches were beginning to gutter and smoke but no servants came to trim them.

King Pellinore, he who had been Merlin's closest crony and was Arthur's oldest friend, paused beside me.

"Do you stay, Marke?"

"I think not, Pellinore." I gestured at Melor whose round eyes were everywhere.

"Very wise."

He was old when first I was at court but then, if forgetful, he was always upright and vital; now suddenly he looked very old, old and bent and weary. He nodded at the younger knights, his own son Lamorak, amongst them...

"Get the lad away from these….."He grimaced, flicking his hand down table. "before they start talking treason."

Startled, my eyes met his, mine querying; his, confirming my glance, roamed the room.

" Then perhaps it would be better if I stayed."

"No, lad. Go you home and soon; but be prepared for the times to come."

Our eyes met again. He shrugged.

"I know not whence it comes but it comes."

He patted my shoulder and made his way down the hall.

I turned to Gwennith.

"Come, it is time for us to get Melor out of here."

Her look was troubled.

"I will take him, if you wish to stay."

"No." I said. "I do not wish to stay. There is a smell of corruption here."

Tramor stood at my chamber door. As I passed him, I told him to leave word to have Dark Star ready at early light.

"I wish to ride."

.

.~~*~~

I slept little that night but when I crossed the stable yard the next morning, he was waiting there, holding Dark Star and his bay.

I dismissed him.

"But Lord "

"I wish to ride alone, Tramor."

"Lord, you are not armed. You need …"

I raised my eyebrows.

I saw the look on his face, of concern and exasperation; he would have argued with me if he had dared. I raised my hand to silence him.

I smiled ruefully at him and shook my head and left him looking doubtfully after me.

I gave Dark Star his head and he lengthened his stride and together we fled Camelot's constricting airs …both exhilarated at loosing our pent up energy.

Out!

Across the plain, through the echoing eerie gorge at Cheddar, until at last we both slowed and I turned his head back towards Arthur's city.

Without thinking, I guided him past the outer curtain wall, bearing westwards until we cantered into the courtyard at Applegarth.

Since I had been last there, she had taken an older couple to help her; the wife in the house, the man in the gardens and orchards that gave Applegarth its name.

They stood together, gaping at me.

"The Lady Viviane?" I asked, leaning down to them.

Still they gawped.

"Your mistress, where is she?"

Surely she had not taken on simpletons? I was irritated by their dropped jaws and open mouths until I realised that they were staring at my jerkin, at the two badges high on my shoulder; the black horse of Cunomorus rearing next to the scarlet dragon of Pendragon.

The badges of two Royal Houses.

I spoke more softly, "Your Lady?"

Without taking their eyes from me, they pointed through the wicker gate that lead to the kitchen gardens and through them to the inner apple orchard.

I tossed the man my reins and throwing my leg over Dark Star's neck, I slid to the ground , and dropping my leather jerkin into the woman's hands, I went to find her .

Through the herb and vegetable gardens I went , looking till I saw her beyond the low dry stone wall, kneeling at the foot of an apple tree, working in its soil.

I moved fast and reaching up, I used a low bough to swing over the wall and stood looking down at her.

She crouched startled, at my feet and made to stand, so close to the tree trunk that its rough bark caught her shift and pulled it off one shoulder and taut across her breast.

She had been working in the sun; her skin gleamed with the warmth of it, the copper strands of her hair stuck to her throat and face, and tiny pearls of perspiration outlined her mouth.

Her breath was coming fast, her breasts rising and falling but her eyes met mine and held. I still held on to the branch as I bent my head to find her mouth. Her hands went to my hair, twisting it, holding my head fast. The bough swished through the air as I let it go to tug at her shift , to touch her, feel her skin and pull her down under me.

.

We said nothing even when we were done.

I stood, and reached my hand to help her up and swing her over the low wall. She led us back through the gardens, the scent of the herbs, warmed by the late morning sun, was rising now and filling the air.

I was only a step behind her as we entered the kitchen.

"Refreshment for the King, Marged." she said to the woman, kicking off her work clogs that were heavy with soil.

She must have had it ready for when we passed through the atrium into the bedchamber, I was surprised at a sound behind me. I turned, the crone was putting a tray down on a table. Bread and Cheddar's rich gold cheese on a wooden platter, apples in a bowl and a jug of ale.

I wondered if the old biddy had noticed the earth and grass stains on us.

Her eyes met mine, and she wasn't as old as I thought; she had merely lost her teeth. Her tongue slipped between her lips and her eyes sparkled naughtily at me.

Oh, she had missed nothing.

"Lord." She bobbed and left us.

Viviane loosed the string of her skirt and petticoats and let them fall to step out of them.

I heeled off my boots, watching her.

She stepped up to the table in her shift, chose an apple and tossing it in one hand, moved to the great bed.

Kneeling up on it, looking at me, she tossed the apple again and bit into it.

And held it out to me.

Jesu, I thought.

Eve in the Garden, and I could not stop myself casting my eyes about to see if the serpent was slithering around somewhere.

Like Adam, I could not but take the apple from her.

Like him, and her, I took a bite and turning threw it back into the bowl, and slowly and deliberately pulled off my shirt and dropped my breeches.

I curled my arm around her shoulders and swept her up into the bed with me to her soft giggles.

.

The noonday sun had moved around the chamber. Now it streamed through the small window to light the slight swell of her belly. I watched my fingers drift slowly on its faint fine apricot down. Her eyes were closed though she was not asleep.

I ran my finger up and circled her navel.

A soft quivering laugh bubbled from her.  
"Do ye want more?"

"Are ye game?"

A mocking hiccup of laughter.

"You said once, that you did not desire me."

"I lied." I paused. "Did you?"

She was silent.

"What mean you?"

I chose my words carefully.

"You said . . . you said that you had had only two lovers. Merlin was virgin; this I know to be so. He himself told me. It follows that Lord Pelleas is knowledgeable. Or . . ."

She was highly amused.

"I have had two lovers . . . three now.

You, my lord King, Lord Pelleas, and Prince Merlin; and yes, Merlin was virgin."

I heard her in my mind, remembering_ " Oh there, my lord, and there! How like you this, my king? And this? This pleasures you?" and my own gasping" Yes, Yes."_

"Then you, Lady, are more knowledgeable than I should have expected."

She laughed again, this time a little mocking.

"Merlin was virgin," she said again. "But he was a physician; he had travelled much in the East and along the Silk Road. He talked with their doctors and wise men and learnt much from them. He had many books too, from distant countries. We read them together and put them into practice."

"Books?" I said, astonished.

A burble of laughter from her.

"Books. There is much to be learned from books, my King. There is one in particular, from the Far East; from the Hindu Kush.

Khmh Sootrh. The Book of Erotic Pleasure. Erotic Pleasure indeed! "

She laughed again; her head tossed back, her throat arched, her teeth gleaming pearls..

"Prince Merlin was old but he was adventurous."

"And did you practice your book with Lord Pelleas?"

Even to me, my tone was cool.

"Lord Pelleas is . . . vigorous but unadventurous.

You, my King, are . . . both vigorous and adventurous."

She was smiling.

After a moment, I relented and smiled wryly.

"My cousin would not agree; he calls me his little monk."

"Your cousin? The Prince Mordred? And he is expert? " She was tart.

"He means only that I should marry again."

"Perhaps he should take his own advice."

Throughout this exchange, I had not looked at her.

She put both hands to my head and turned me to her.

"Come, my Lord King, let us once more prove the Prince wrong."

.

She pulled on her shift and poured us both cups of ale. She offered me one and swinging herself back onto the bed beside me, she said, "What brought you here, Marke? You did not come for this alone."

A little ruefully, I said, "I didn't know that I was coming here until I rode in to the courtyard."

She waited.

I reached for my breeches.

"When were you last at court?" I asked slowly, pulling them on.

"Two moons, I suppose."

I sat on the side of the bed holding my shirt, wondering what I wanted to say.

"You may trust me, Marke."

I gnawed at my lip." Yes. Yes, I should not be here if I thought otherwise.

I had thought that you would be there. At the court... Merlin was there always. But you must know that. "

Still I hesitated.

I pulled on my shirt.

"You must know how it is there."

"The Queen? And Lord Lancelot?

I dragged my hand through my hair.

"Aye ….and the King's Companions."

"The King has much to do. Attacks on all sides. He is away much of the time."

"Aye," I said on a sigh. "It would be better if more of his Companions rode with him instead of spreading gossip when they are in their cups. Do you not advise the King?"

"I am not the King's cousin; I may only advise when asked. Or when the Lady sends me."

She tied her petticoats about her.

"The air at court, Viviane. I do not like it. It smacks of rottenness, decay. When Arthur is present, it is as though it lies hidden, but simmering beneath. " I paused. "You have no knowledge of what is to be?"

"The Goddess sends what she will." She stopped."This I know and I have told the High King; the Kingdom is safe for now. There is darkness coming, and heavy times. Heavy times for King and subject but there will be a safe pair of hands to hold the Kingdom after him, for a few more years. But the Darkness _is_ coming. There can be no holding it back. There will be hard times for the Kingdom, but it will be not fall in his lifetime, nor yours. "

.

.~*~*~

It was mid-afternoon before I made move to return to Camelot.

Viviane called to her man to saddle my horse.

We walked together through the cool atrium to the vestibule. I picked up my jerkin from the chair where Marged had left it; she had brushed it well.

"Will you come again?"

"If I can."

"Soon?"

" Perhaps. I cannot say surely."

I trusted her now, this I knew ; and liked her, yes, and of a certainty, desired her but I did not love her.

I thought perhaps she thought the same.

I might want to come again.

But if I should?

This I did not know.

.

I moved to the door.

A thought came to me, I caught my breath.

I turned to her. "Will there be a child?"

"That is in the hands of the Goddess."

"You do not 'see'?"

"I do not have the Sight. I can read a little in the water and in the fire, Merlin taught me that; and sometimes the Lady Goddess sends a sign but always for others. Never for myself."

"You will send me word should...?"

She smiled.

"Of course."

She came out of the shadows to where I stood on the step in the sunlight and put her hand on my arm.

"Marke. It would be good for you and Kernow if you were to marry."

"Perhaps."

I had stopped to buckle my jerkin, when she spoke oddly.

_"From under Erin's shadows _

_Through smoke and fire _

_Gold, sapphires and roses,_

_For Kernow's King."_

I gaped at her.

Her face was white against the copper of her hair and a little tremor shook her, her eyelids flickering fast as if she were awakening.

She took deep shuddering breaths, her eyes steadying to fix on me.

"What said I, my Lord?"

She took a quick breath and smiled uncertainly.

I held her chin to kiss her mouth gently.

"You said nothing, my lady, only farewell. May Christos keep you in His care."

At Camelot that evening, I told Arthur of my resolve to return home.

He smiled sadly but neither questioned my decision nor my reasons.

I held out my hands to take his.

"In faith and truth I will bear unto thee…" The first line of the vow of allegiance.

"Always, my King."

.

.~~~*~~~*~~~

We came back to Castle D'Or to find Tristan returned to his sunny self. It was as if his sulks and tantrums were put behind him.

He set himself to prepare himself for his Knighthood, striving as always to his utmost.

I rode with him and Melor daily; sometimes just for the pleasure, other times out across the land to the villages, teaching them the care of the people as my father had taught me. They sat below me on the dais, in my great hall, in my judgements, that they might learn as I did; as I had learnt from my father, Arthur and Merlin, what is just and right.

Melor has lands in Breidzh from his father; he would not always stay in Kernow. He would need to know how to care for them.

And Tristan too, though as a younger son his were much less … maybe he one day might need that knowledge too.

My love and pride in them grew daily.

If there were jealousy between brothers, I did not see it. I saw only arguing and squabbling between loving brothers, striving to beat each other. If sometimes, my sister frowned a little when she looked at her sons, that also was something of which I was not aware.

Perhaps I should have been.

Tristan was knighted just after his fifteenth birthday.

In the days that followed, Irish raids began again. Fiercer and more deadly than ever, the devastation of the villages where they landed was appalling. So fierce were the attacks that though Tristan was initiated a knight, there was no time after for the days of honour, that were his due.

As soon as we heard the warning horn, my lords and I were mounted and gone, Melor and Tristan wanting to be at my side. My sister's eyes mutely begging me to leave them behind.

I knew I could not continue to do so much longer, for their sakes.

The tournament circuit in France had recommenced. I gave Melor my permission to go to compete in them again, as I had in the two previous years. He had done well and itched to do so again.

And Tristan too itched to go with him. His mother was reluctant.

"Gwenny, he will gain experience and confidence with less danger than fighting against the Irish and Melor will be safe too without feeling shame."

So we let them go.

.

.~~*~~

Word came to us that King Diarmud had appointed a new Morholt, the King's Champion.

Connor, a brilliant soldier, but a hard and cruel one, relentless in his greed, remorseless in his

slaying.

Our days were filled, riding across our land, looking to building new more beacons, setting more watches, rebuilding the villages, making sure that my people had food and seed for their plantings.

My nephews returned from France: Melor smiling with his triumph in the field, a man now with little trace of the boy, and Tristan, he too had grown, not only in stature but in the knightly fields, bidding well to be the best amongst men, the finest in my Kingdom, shining at swordcraft , horsemanship, tilting , everything that makes a perfect knight , but still a boy , not yet seventeen.

My lords came to Castle D'Or when the first gales of winter lashed our shores, when they were sure that their castles were safe from the Irish marauders.

Some had been very badly damaged by the raids and they all wanted an end to it.

The discussions always becoming heated; the suggestions as to what we should do were wild and varied.

Two most favoured were firstly that we should send spying raids to Erin to sound out their strengths: and secondly, that I should marry into a strong alliance.

A political alliance.

With Erin.

I agreed that throughout the winter we should discuss spying raids; on the other I made no comment.

I was aware that my lords took that as a tacit agreement.

With the passing of the Christos ' birth feast, we began to plan a spy raid. Gathering together all our knowledge, all that we knew about the geography of the Irish coast, about Tara, King Diarmud's stronghold: about his military strength and about the Morholt with whose name Kernowish mothers now threatened their children.

We discussed long and hard; the kind of the boats we had, which was best for what we intended: our young men, the skills they would need for this hazardous trip. And at last, with my lords, I made the decision that yes, there should be a raid when everything was ready.

How many should go and…who.

We had decided. A small party would lessen discovery . Four we thought. Those most skilled in moving quietly and without attracting attention. They were to be clad not in armour but in coarse woollens to appear to be fishermen, no arms except knives. My lords and I narrowed the numbers and then we chose the four who were to go.

Melor and Tristan begged to be allowed to go.

I refused them.

Melor accepted my word as he always did; not because he was afraid but because he customarily obeyed my word immediately. Tristan, however, was wild to go. He persisted until I snapped at him.

The party was ready.

.

.~~*~~

They left one night, unbeknown to the court. No moon, they rode quietly in the dark, down to one of the creeks below the western cliffs; climbing silently down to the small boat already hidden there, and they were gone.

All was quiet until the morning found the court in uproar and Tristan missing.

Gwennith sought me in tears.

"Did you let him go?"

"Of course not! Gwennith, he is out, riding off his sullens. He will be back when he is hungry."

He did not come back.

I sent a couple of soldiers out to look for him.

" Marke, you did not let him go to Erin? "  
"Gwenny, you know I expressly said no. Besides, they would not take him against my command."

Concerned, I sent out search parties. We scoured the land around the castle, every village, every cove, every dell, every bloody rabbit hole.

Wherever Tristan was, he was nowhere near Castle D'Or.

Gwennith's distress caused me to give out word to the youngsters of the court that if any knew even the smallest hint of where he might be, then they should come to me.

There would be no repercussions.

Melor came to me. He was white and fraught, biting his lip.

He knelt before me, looking at his mother.

"My Lord King, my Lord Uncle…"

"If you know something, Melor, then you must tell us. For your mother's sake. And your brother's."

He licked his lips.

"He said… I told him not to be stupid." He looked at his mother again. "He called me coward. I did not think that he …."

"He said he would go with them, the spy raid ...stow away, to Erin."

"You knew! Ahhrhh! And you did not stop him." She leapt at him and smacked him hard across the head, pummelling and punching him; and kneeling still, he took it.

"Gwennith!" I pulled her from him, holding her. "How could the boy stop him?"

She clutched my arm.

"What can we do?"

"Nothing!"

"Send to Erin! Marke! Send and ask Diarmud…." Her voice trailed off.

"I cannot. Not only would it risk _his_ life, it would betray the others. If Diarmud has him or any of them, he will send word fast enough. No, Gwenny, we have to sit and wait."

That is what we did, Melor growing as white as his mother, and she growing thinner daily.

No word came from Diarmud.

More than thirty days without word.

On the thirty first day, came the sound of raised voices, feet running fast.

"My Lord,"

Up the stone stairs to my chamber.

" My Lord"

One of the guards came running; behind him another man, not a soldier, more meanly clothed. He clutched the door jamb, gasping for breath.

"My Lord," the guard said. "this man, he has news. News of Lord Tristan."

"A stool for him, quickly, man, and fetch the Lady Gwennith and Lord Melor."

I poured a mug of ale.

"Sit you, and here." I held out the mug and waited for him to catch his breath."Take your time, man."

"Your name? Where are you from? "

"Jacca. Mullion cove." His breathing was easier now.

My sister rushed in, Melor behind her.

"Now man, tell us what you know."

"Boy in a boat, came into thur cove on thur tide. Yestiddy, naw, day 'fore. Drifting in nor sailing. He wuz lying in it, worn and sickly. Oi got 'im out. Worn out, 'e wuz. Sed send word to the King. Tell 'im, tell you… Tristan. Oi be feart to pass message on, so Oi came me sel'. Oi canna ride so Jory brought me pillion.

Oi begs pardon Lord, Jory's 'oss be ole farm 'oss and two of us be hard for him. We came as fast as we could."

I nodded in understanding.

"The boy, Tristan?"

"My woman be taking care of him."

Gwennith knelt beside him.

"You are certain that it is he? Tristan?"

" 'Tis whut 'e sed." He looked up.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped at the sight of her but my sister has been stunning men with her beauty since she was little more that a child.

"This is my sister, the Lady Gwennith, Jacca, and Tristan's mother."

"Aye, 'e 'as a look of 'er. Pardon, me lady."

She smiled at him adding more to his confusion.

"Tell me, Jacca, how is he? Where has he been?"

"Oi doan know where he been. 'e din say. Oi think that be for the King. Me mizzuz sez 'e be fine; naw Oi thinks he been poorly and be worn out. Sailing singly wears you out. No sleep, you see. Some sleep 'n he be fine. Me missuz sez, um, she washed him, she sez there be a great gash, up 'ere, up his thigh into 'is groin. It be mostly healed now."

Gwennith looked up at me, her distress on her face.

"Me missuz sez, it were well looked after, but he musta bin fair poorly for a while."

"Marke, we must go."

"Lady. We be fisherfolk, our cots be a mite rough for ladies, and by now the lad will be on 'is way 'ere. 'e be 'ere before you know. Best to bide 'ere. Um, pardon, Lady."

She stood, nodding." You'll be needing food and drink. I'll see to it. Thank you, Jacca."

I went to the small chest on my table.

"This for your trouble."I said and held out a small bag of gold.

He drew himself up.

"Oi needs no gelt for helping a lad."

"Nevertheless you will take it. It is a command."

I touched his shoulder,

"And should you ever want for anything, remember, your King is in your debt."

.

. ~*~

Two days later Tristan was home. A little pale and with an almost healed scar of which he was inordinately proud.

I sent for him to come to my Privy Chamber, his mother waiting with me.

I had recovered from my fright of losing him, enough to be angry at him.

He knelt before me, barely hiding a smile.

"You are amused, Tristan? I assure you, you have nothing to be amused or pleased with yourself about."

The smile dropped.

"Your mother was distressed and extremely worried about you; as was I. Apart from which you deliberately flouted my command."

His eyes slid to his mother and back to me.

I was not going to let my concern and relief deflate my anger at his flouting my orders.

"You defied me. And by doing so you put your life at risk, not to mention the lives of the men sent on the mission; and the men who spent days, searching the moors of the Kingdom for you. "

His mouth opened in consternation and not a little fear.

Good! I intended to put the fear of God in him.

"Being a Knight of the Realm is not just a shining armour and a good horse; it is not just being a fine swordsman and able with a lance. It is caring for your people, being considerate of your dear ones. More, it is thinking of the safety of your companions.

Above all, it is obeying commands of your King and not seeking self glory."

I had not raised my voice but the tone of it was cold; as I had intended. Tristan had to learn that trust and loyalty to one's brothers -in-arms and them in you was essential. That obeying your Lord's command was as a part of knighthood as the sword in your hand; and the honour of it was as easily tarnished.

"I am deeply disappointed in you."

He bit his lip and I felt rather than saw my sister bow her head in distress.

"My Lord King, I am sorry. I beg your pardon with all my being… I desperately wanted to go; to do what I could for you and my country…" His voice trailed away.

"I do not think that you understand even now, Tristan , that you, by your youth and inexperience, by your disobedience , could have lost the expedition, even lost the lives of your companions."

I stopped as I saw his face change.

"They are lost? How many? Tell me."

"My Lord … … I don't know surely …"

"Tell me what you do know."

He began slowly. How one day out at sea, he had revealed himself. The four knights had been angry and accused him of jeopardising it but all had agreed that it would be wiser to go on. They had landed on the western coast of Erin and had hidden the boat. They had closed in on the castle that he later had learnt to be Tara, Diarmud's seat. They were discovered and ambushed. The others had urged him to run, he had stayed and four of them had fallen and one captured. The Irish had left the fallen for dead. The three others were dead, but he managed to get back to the boat. He was bleeding badly. He had managed to launch the boat but had fainted and the boat drifted out. He had woken some time later in a fisherman's hut; his wounds being tended by two maidens.

"Their mother worked in the stillroom of the palace so they had some skills. They fed me too and when the search for me began again, they got me away."

"Why?"

"Why?" He shrugged."They hated the Morholt … and I think, the King ... I think Irish mothers frighten their babies with stories of the Morholt too."

"And your captured companion?"

He shook his head. "I do not know, Lord. I could not question the maidens for fear of giving myself away. I do not think there is much hope."

So this trip had been a disaster from start to finish.

"Do you know, did they learn anything?

Again he shook his head, biting his lip.

I rested my head on my hands.

Dearest Christos, I sent these men to their deaths.

All for nothing; a waste of lives.

"My Lord. Uncle, I am sorry."

I stood and walked away to the window embrasure, looking out without seeing.

"Lord Uncle." The still boyish voice broke through and I turned. Yes, he was still a boy.

"I am truly sorry…"  
"It is not you who are to blame, Tristan. Perhaps _you_ should not have gone but I let _them_ go. I sent them to their deaths."

"Lord, men fight and die, each and every battle. That is the nature of being a soldier."

The earnest young face looked up at me.

"Fighting in battle, armoured and armed, all equal, is not the same as sending men unarmed into enemy lands."

"Lord, Kings give commands and men die; that is the nature of being a commander."

"Aye Tristan, but it does not make it right or easier on that King's conscience."

I turned back to him and raised him to his feet.

"Learn by this Tristan. It is not an adventure; it is life and men may lose their lives. You are now a knight and have ideals to live up to. Honour and justice for all. When you ignore or disobey your Lord, it is not only your honour you tarnish, it is his also."

.

.~~~~*~~~~

In the months that followed, the Irish raids were even fiercer, their lightning strikes causing severe life losses mostly among the villagers and field workers.

I saw both Melor and Tristan grow in stature, both striving to be the finest they could. My pride in both of them grew with them, and when my Champion wished to retire from his position, I appointed Tristan to it. Melor spoke privily about it to me, hurt and disappointed. I gave my reason; he held lands and people in trust to me.

But it was also true and unsaid that Tristan was better, not much but better still.

If my joy in them gave me pleasure, it was in my bedchamber alone at night, that faces of the dead and names of the living rose to reproach me.

As the autumn mists rose, my lords came to hold council with me. More and more, the suggestion of a political alliance was raised.

In my chamber, more and more, the thoughts came back to me.

Were they right?

Would an alliance help to protect my people?

Was I being selfish, in standing back from a political marriage?

Could I, for what may be the best of reasons, marry a child?

I was then eight and twenty.

Mature, yes and some might say, beginning to slide into middle-age.

A child! It filled me with distaste.

Or was it the thought of what I had with Drawenna.

As I did when in doubt, I opened my mind to think what _she_ might think.

More and more I heard her say "_Look to your people, Marke_."

I sent for Tristan.

"The Princess of Ireland...Did you see her?"

He shook his head.

"No, Lord."

"Did you hear of her?"

"Very little, Lord. The maid who tended me laughed and said only that she was a plain little thing."

"What age has she? She is very young, still a child surely?"

"I do not know her age , my lord, except she is marriageable. Fifteen perhaps, or sixteen.

The Morholt sues for her hand. Some say that Diarmud will give her to him for his services to the throne. Others think that Diarmud would not give his only child, the Princess of Erin, to his Champion but is saving her for higher offers while keeping the Morholt tied to him."

.

.~~*~~

With the end of winter days, after more council with my lords, I made my decision.

I would send an embassage seeking peace and requesting the hand of the Princess Iseult, as surety of my good faith.

I would send my Herald as my Ambassador, several of my highest diplomatic Lords, and Tristan as the King's Champion.

My Lords knew every detail of my suit and were to act as I would.

A sign of diplomacy, fully and completely drawn up, and a show of strength to enforce any agreement.

No! I did not trust Diarmud or his Morholt.

My largest ship was loaded with gifts for the King and the Princess, my Lords boarded her and I stood on the cliffs beyond Castle D'Or and watched her sail down the Channel to Erin.

The dice were tossed. They would fall where they would.

.

.~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~


End file.
